


Special-Case Revisions to the Employee Handbook (Or: Garrus Vakarian and the Slippery Slope)

by beetle



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Boys In Love, Control Issues, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, Failboats In Love, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Garrus Fails at Adulting, Human Resources, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, No one in THIS fic, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Rimming, Role Reversal, Scott's being the sub he wants to see in the world, Service Submission, Sexual Humor, Shep is shameless, Submission, Supply-Room Sex, Switching, Who doesn't like cock?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: Sighing, Garrus stepped intoOffice Supply-Room Sex Fantasy: Take #4—becausetherewas a decision that’d never gotten him in over his head. . . .





	Special-Case Revisions to the Employee Handbook (Or: Garrus Vakarian and the Slippery Slope)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stitchcasual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchcasual/gifts), [hotot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotot/gifts).



> Notes/Warnings: Polyamory. Office sex. D/s, very mild BDSM. And did I mention the porn? On an I-don’t-even-know-anymore level? This is porny crack, with a straight face and a necktie. And occasional banter and feels.

 

“Really, guys?” Garrus Vakarian asked as he stood, frozen, in the narrow doorway of the supply-room. Only . . . it wasn’t so much a question, as it was familiar commentary on the direction his life had taken in recent months. “Just . . . really?”

 

Shep, leaning against a tall wall made entirely of stacks of dozen-ream boxes of feeder paper, slitted his ice-blue eyes open just enough to give Garrus a simmering, smoldering look of consideration. Then he smirked, and closed those eyes again, licked his full lips, and ran his hand over a kneeling, naked, and moaning Scott Ryder’s rainbow-colored dreads.

 

“Yep. Really,” Shep grunted in a tight, strained, turned-on/absent voice as his large, square hand anchored in Scott’s shoulder-length, skinny dreads, tight and probably somewhat painfully. But then, never let it be said that Jameson M. Shepard didn’t know exactly what his lovers wanted. And needed.

 

That, at least, was _Garrus’s_ experience. And, from the sound of things, Scott was having a similar experience, even as Shep guided the younger man’s head up and down, while shoving his cock hard down Scott’s visibly distending throat.

 

Sighing, Garrus stepped into **Office Supply-Room Sex Fantasy: Take #4** —because _there_ was a decision that’d never gotten him in over his head—and closed the door behind him, leaning against it and watching his lovers be the probably-literal death of him.

 

“You’re fucking our intern in the office supply-room, Shep,” Garrus noted evenly, since _someone_ had to belabor the obvious, and Scott’s mouth (and throat) were rather full.

 

And Shep was terrible at multitasking.

 

An acknowledging grunt as Shep pulled Scott’s head almost all the way off his cock, then immediately yanked it back in as he thrust forward, was followed by another, _much_ different sort of grunt. Garrus licked his lips, then tried to focus despite the distraction.

 

“ _Again_ , Shep,” he added dryly.

 

Another grunt, this one impatient and a bit irritable. As if asking what Garrus’s point was.

 

“Isn't this an HR violation?" Garrus knew damned well that it _was_. He’d singlehandedly written the employee handbook, including every addenda and all three revisions. “Because I’m, uh, fairly certain this is a big company no-no.”

 

“Huh. Not if you join us.”

 

Shep’s terse reply was . . . tempting. Garrus was halfway across the small space before he stopped himself and stood, arms akimbo, and glaring at his lover and their . . . boyfriend. Said boyfriend was wearing his usual big, shit-eating grin as he took Shep’s dick like the old-hand he was. Garrus groaned.

 

Garrus was a good employee. He didn’t deserve this. Shouldn’t always have to be the goddamned adult _all the time_.

 

“You realize _I’m_ the head of HR.” This was also not a question. But Shep answered anyway. He snorted and peered from between his stubby, thick eyelashes . . . that cool, upper-atmo blue was entirely unique. Garrus had never seen another pair of eyes quite that striking, ice-white color. “That I’ve . . . got an example to set, as upper management? And so do you?”

 

“Eh. All that means is you’ve got an . . . in.” Shep waved his hand at a beautifully prostrate Scott. Garrus had to close his eyes for a few moments and remind himself: _Adult. I’m the adult. Scott is a pretty, perverted little slut, Shep’s still getting used to this . . ._ us _-ness that’s happening, and I . . . I’m the adult._

“Ah. Is _that_ what it means?” When Garrus opened his eyes, he aimed them at six three-hole-punches that’d been left laying on top of a box of plastic, eight and one-half by eleven sleeves.

 

Sometimes, he wondered how this company was even still standing.

 

Resisting the urge to sort the punches into their proper place, Garrus’s gaze shifted unwillingly to Shep’s face. The other man was watching him with hot-eyed intensity and yearning. Then, his smirk widened into a grin and he held out his large, square hand to Garrus.

 

“I . . . really shouldn’t,” he said, taking a single step closer. Shep’s grin was practically sultry, now. But then, few things turned Shep on faster than victory.

 

“Maybe not. Doesn’t mean you _can’t_ , though, Mr. Vakarian.” Those pale eyes dropped pointedly to erection Garrus had been grimly ignoring since maybe even before his aimless feet and restless mind had carried him to “their” supply-room. Resisting the urge to adjust himself and make his interest less obvious, Garrus kept up his game face, despite rolling his eyes in hopeless exasperation. More with himself than with his lovers, since he was responding rather quickly to the sight of Shep using Scott’s pretty, smart mouth for one of the many amazing things it was so good at, and . . . that really wasn’t Shep’s or Scott’s fault.

 

Not at **Take 4**.

 

Those flame-blue eyes met Garrus’s dark ones again, brimming with such an intensity of need and desire, it swept away almost everything else. Even the strong urge to be a responsible and upright adult-type-being. In fact, Garrus’s hand dropped to his groin instinctively—he took a moment to hope he hadn’t been walking around all morning like _this_ . . . he’d had a meeting at eight-thirty that’d run until ten, and the idea that he’d been visibly erect for _any_ of it, when his colleague and subordinates could’ve _seen_ was . . . mortifying—to squeeze and stroke, and Shep licked his lips and nodded.

 

“Yeah. We _knew_ you’d show up sooner or later, Garrus. You’ve got a sixth sense for when your . . . particular services are needed and wanted. And I _don’t_ mean the Human Resources ones.” Shep’s eyes closed again and he sighed softly, pulling Scott’s head closer, till the younger man’s face was buried in his pubic hair. “I even got him all warmed up for you.”

 

Garrus blinked. Watched Shep practically choke Scott on his dick, then tilted his head at a slight angle until he could, indeed, see the faint, slick shine of a rather spare amount of lube just between the cheeks of Scott’s ridiculous-perfect ass.

 

It wasn’t that Shep was _stingy_ with the lube, just that he liked it when Scott walked funny for a few hours. Or half a day. No matter whether it was Shep’s dick or Garrus’s that had altered their intern’s normally cocky strut.

 

“Well. That’s . . . thoughtful of you, Shep,” Garrus decided with self-deprecating amusement—he’d always been incorrigible, he supposed, but it was _worse_ since he and Shep got together . . . and worse, _still_ , since they acquired Scott seven months ago. But it was what it was, and Garrus wouldn’t change it for anything. Couldn’t _lie_ to himself about that pertinent fact. Instead, he smiled wistfully at his lovers, then stepped back just far enough to lock the door to the supply room with his left hand. With his right, he undid his belt, then his fly. He was fairly practiced at both, at _this_ late date. “Much obliged.”

 

“I’m a good boyfriend. Thoughtful, and shit,” Shep agreed with sardonic serenity as he rammed himself down Scott’s practiced throat. The kid didn’t even gag—not even a little. And Shep, though he didn’t quite have Garrus’s length, more than made up for it in envious girth. For long moments, Garrus could only marvel and appreciate.

 

Scott, meanwhile, made soft, swallowing hums, as relaxed as everything else about him, and definitely eager for more. Shep smiled absently, eyes still closed as he held his position and loosened his death-grip on Scott’s multicolored dreads. Then the lightened grip became a fond, approving stroke.

 

“Good boy,” Shep murmured in a voice that was only very slightly shaken. Shaken in a way that Scott might not yet be able to pick up on, but that Garrus, after nearly five years, was a past master at recognizing. He’d heard it most frequently when Shep was on his hands and knees, covered in sweat, his muscles coiled tight and quivering, as Garrus systematically pounded that legendary impassivity out of him in grunts, then moans, then shouts. And then, finally, as Shep lost it _completely_ , short, desperate, despairing screams.

 

Smiling at that lovely thought, Garrus let his trousers and boxers puddle around his feet before stepping out of them. A moment later, with another sigh and acknowledgement of his own anal-retentive OCD habits, he picked up both, and folded and draped them on a stack of boxes which contained file folders. He noted in passing that the office might need to order more in the near future. Especially with the way the company was growing—nearly faster than he and Shep could keep up with it.

 

When Garrus turned back to his lovers, it was to see Scott teasing the tip of Shep’s thick, angry-red, uncut dick with his long, agile tongue, while Shep continued to stroke his dreads. But he was staring at Garrus once more, his eyes opened wide with fond bemusement.

 

“You just can’t _not_ multi-task, can you?” he noted, his voice a relaxed growl. Garrus flushed and cleared his throat, looking down his body. His dick curved upward, proud and ready, from between the tails of his button-down Hugo Boss shirt.

 

“Compartmentalization is something I was taught to excel at early on,” Garrus drawled, shrugging and tugging up his shirt to stroke himself harder. He could feel as well as see Shep’s gaze run down his body, linger on his cock, then meander back up to his face. “Trust me, Shep: my body’s all present and accounted for. My brain’ll follow suit, soon enough.”

 

Shep’s slight smile turned into a crooked smirk. “That’s what I like to hear.” He waved at Scott, who was clearly focused on singlehandedly advancing the exquisite art of the cocktease and blowjob.

 

As he so often was.

 

“Hmm. . . .” Garrus rumbled quietly as he drifted closer to his lovers, aware that he looked patently ridiculous in nothing but his crisp, white shirt, power-red tie, and black socks and shoes. But the two pairs of eyes that focused on him—Scott had angled his head so he could keep sucking Shep and still see Garrus . . . his bright grey-green eyes were admiring _and_ appreciative, indeed—were hot and hungry, rather than humored.

 

Stopping just behind Scott, Garrus ran a hand over that thick, dreaded, rainbow hair, before clenching in it and pulling Scott’s head off Shep’s dick and toward his own. The intern went with a moan that was hotter and hungrier than those big, not-terribly-innocent eyes. He nuzzled urgently at Garrus’s dick before grabbing it in one clever hand and taking over the stroking. Then, shortly thereafter, licking, nipping, teasing, and sucking, which Garrus let the kid do with a bare minimum of directing and guiding.

 

Whereas Shep liked to control their boy to the point of micromanaging him, Garrus liked to give Scott his own lead. Liked to let Scott’s initiative and desires do the lion’s share of the work.

 

He’d never had cause to regret it, either.

 

Now—as Scott sucked on and savored his cock like it was his favorite flavor of lollipop, moaning and humming his satisfaction as he fondled Garrus’s balls—Garrus met Shep’s smoldering, half-lidded, ice-blue gaze and smirked, too. Shep shrugged and snorted. Their sexual styles, when it came to Scott’s continued training and their sexual domination of him, were rather different, but Scott was delightfully adaptable and took to either style like a fish to water. Could, at a moment’s notice, be whatever his lovers required of him.

 

“He’s so cock-hungry, swear to God,” Shep huffed. “Never seen anything like it.”

 

“Is that a complaint?” Garrus inquired, then hissed as Scott tongued his glans light and slow, then with increasing pressure.

 

“ _Fuck_ , no. You know me. I _never_ complain.”

 

“Unh. This is true.”

 

Shep chuckled, low and dangerous, and Garrus opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed. What he saw made him groan with more than a little desperation of his own. Shep was stroking himself hard, slow, and tight, precome dripping steadily from his dick, wetting his blunt, thick fingers.

 

“This how ya want it, Vakarian?” he asked in a rasping, intent purr as he held Garrus’s gaze. “Figured I’d take his mouth and you could have his ass, but if you wanna switch it up. . . .”

 

Garrus smiled and glanced down at Scott to find those big, croaker-colored eyes locked on him with flattering intensity. His smile widened and he let go of Scott’s colorful hair, to run his finger down Scott’s short, pug nose. Despite his olive complexion—not as _pale_ as Shep’s lightly tanned face or his fish-belly white everything else, yet _not_ as dark as Garrus’s swarthy Armenian-and-Lebanese coloring—Scott was flecked to the point of ridiculous cuteness, with freckles. Sometimes, he seemed more freckles than face—especially now that summer was under way and their boy had a tendency to spend all his spare moments in the sun, either surfing, bicycling, or longboarding.

 

“Well, Shep,” Garrus began slowly, brushing his finger down Scott’s cheek, now, as the younger man applied his teeth in that gentle-careful-insanely _perfect_ way that always made Garrus want to forsake even _that_ delightful stimulus, pull a Shep, and push the kid down on his hands and knees, and fuck that greedy, submissive ass raw.

 

Scott, of course, knew _exactly_ what that little move did to Garrus—he couldn’t _not_ , at this point in their relationship—though he blinked those big eyes with their crazy-long, fawn-colored lashes, as innocently as a choirboy.

 

“Here’s the thing,” Garrus continued sedately, though that calm was hard-won, when all he wanted to do was drive his dick into something even tighter and hotter than Scott’s wonderfully willing throat. “You can have whatever hole you prefer. Or neither. Or both.” Garrus shrugged and Scott groaned, those eyes fluttering as Scott grabbed his own cock tight and hard. Of course. He hadn’t been given permission to come, yet, direct or otherwise. Smirking, Garrus brushed a tear of frustration and strain away as it rolled down Scott’s left cheek. Then he shifted his gaze to Shep, whose eyes were bright and challenging. Knowing. “Right now, _yours_ is the ass I want.”

 

Both Shep and Scott made hungry, choked sounds though, where Scott’s was more of a pleading whimper—the little slut, _aside_ from being shamelessly cock-hungry, was an exhibitionist _and_ a voyeur, to boot—Shep’s was more of a _if-you-want-it-come-take-it_ sort of growl.

 

Garrus grinned and Shep smirked, shoving down his trousers and jockeys all the way. He didn’t, however, bother to step out of them. Nonetheless, Garrus couldn’t help but admire the bunched, powerful muscles of thighs and calves, the gorgeous-dangerous jut of his cock, and the freaking _eight-pack_ abs he was afforded a glimpse of when Shep ran a hand up to his chest, briefly pushing up his blue button-down, white wifebeater, and grey tie.

 

“Fuck, but you’re _beautiful_ , James Shepard,” Garrus sighed, not for the first time, and not caring that it made him sound every inch the sap he was, not-so-far below his dry, blandly even exterior. Shep’s pale eyes flickered faster than lightning, with something Garrus had never been able to pin down, but about which he had his suspicions.

 

“Uh-huh. Whatever. Guess that means _you’re_ in charge of this rodeo, huh? So . . . we gonna rumble? Or just stand around making puppy-eyes and embroidering pillows, Vakarian?” Shep’s voice was both bored and expectant, completely uninterested in Garrus’s praise. He was, for reasons Garrus knew and surely some that he didn’t, either immune to or put-off by even faint praise, except at . . . very specific moments. He’d tolerate Garrus’s regular slips, and Scott’s occasional, clingy, post-coital: “Love you, Shep.” But blatant appreciation of the man was _not_ the way to Shep’s walled-off, wary heart.

 

When it came to Shep, words were indeed, cheap currency. He was all about action.

 

And Garrus . . . was quite all right with that.

 

He looked down at a patient and obedient—but clearly _excited_ —Scott and tapped the tip of the kid’s freckled nose. Scott snorted, but as usual, instantly obeyed in exactly the way he was meant to. He eased his teasing, appreciative way off Garrus’s dick, humming happily and with a quick, final kiss left on the tip.

 

Garrus leaned down and kissed the bridge of Scott’s nose, then his lips, tasting himself and Shep—chasing down those complimentary salt-bitter flavors, combined with the sweetness of Scott’s mouth . . . all bubblegum and Mountain Dew—before trailing kisses to the boy’s ear, where he whispered brief, but precise directives.

 

Scott nodded, drawing in a shivering breath as Garrus straightened. Then he was shuffling, still on his knees, to the side, as Garrus crooked a commanding finger at Shep.

 

“Over here, soldier,” he said firmly, but tenderly. Shep’s right eyebrow quirked, but he finally kicked off his trousers and underwear, and approached Garrus with a slow, predatory stalk.

 

When Shep stopped just outside Garrus’s personal bubble, Garrus smiled and closed the distance between them with calm assertiveness. He had several inches on Shep’s even six feet, but never noticed that less than when they were together like this. Even when needy and a slave to his desires, Shep . . . _towered_. Sometimes, Garrus could only stare at him and just admire all the raw will, strength, and determination that’d gone into the crucible from which Jameson Shepard had emerged, self-made and ready to take on the world.

 

Utterly in love and in awe, Garrus simply stared down into Shep’s pale eyes as they flicker-flashed up at him, all restrained, but low-key, heart-eyed semaphore and _feeling_ that Shep’d deny unless he was nearing black-out drunk.

 

Garrus was all right with that, too. He could, and did, say the words enough for all three of them.

 

Speaking of. . . .

 

“I love you _very much_ , Jameson Shepard,” he murmured, placing his hands on Shep’s hips, and leaning in and down until their foreheads touched. “We _both_ do, Moment-Slayer, so just accept it and keep your yap shut,” Garrus added kindly, sliding his hands back and around to Shep’s muscular ass. Then he was kissing the shorter man, hard and intimate, before Shep could, indeed, ruin the moment by growling something macho and snarky.

 

Shep, of course, after his own instinctive submission to Garrus’s claiming kiss—the man had Dominant _leanings_ , but in their relationship, even before the advent of Scott Ryder, Shep was ultimately a submissive, when it came to him and Garrus . . . and even, occasionally, when it came to him and _Scott_ —growled again and gave at least as good as he got. He surged up into the kiss fast and intense, sucking and all but biting Garrus’s lips. Garrus, as ever, let his lover play at being an Alpha. Let him control the kiss, even as he gripped, then spread Shep’s cheeks, stroking between them lightly, brushing the hot, puckered entrance to that controlled, gorgeous body.

 

This time, Shep didn’t growl, but groaned, desperate and surprised, his body now slowly conforming to Garrus’s, rather than clashing with it. He ground his hard-on against Garrus’s long, lean thigh, and looped big arms around Garrus’s neck, moaning ravenously when Garrus thrust against those amazing abs.

 

Then, Shep was breaking their kiss to let out a loud, gasping grunt as the fingers Garrus removed, were replaced by Scott’s tongue.

 

Smiling as he kissed a trail of hickeys down Shep’s pale throat, Garrus murmured with gentle, but dangerous promise: “We’re gonna fuck you, Shep. Me and Scotty. We’re gonna get all up in that sexy, bad-ass body, and remind it—and you—who the fuck you belong to.”

 

Shep made another loud gasp, this one markedly more choked, and Garrus chuckled. “Sound good, baby?” he murmured rhetorically, nosing his way up to Shep’s earlobe and embedding his teeth in the defenseless flesh until Shep croaked out something that was likely either an attempt at his name or Scott’s. Or possibly both.

 

“You want us to make _you_ our helpless, cock-hungry, submissive little come-dumpster? Want us to fuck you, and keep you hard and on the edge, until we can’t get it up anymore? And you’re in tears and begging for release?”

 

“Fuck, Garrus—” Shep shuddered hard, swore again, then moaned Scott’s name breathily. Garrus, still holding Shep open, spared a moment to pat Scott on the head. The intern hummed, muffled and low, his face pressed against Shep, who made a high-pitched, yelping noise as Scott did something with his tongue that was probably illegal in at least forty countries.

 

“My big, bad soldier . . . so scary and intense . . . the manliest, most aggressive man I’ve ever known,” Garrus mused in Shep’s ear, running his tongue along the shell. “But not when it’s like this. Not when it’s just _us_ , like this. You _like_ being taken. Being _possessed_ and invaded . . . and made to _crave_ it. To _love_ it. You _love taking it_ , no matter what form it comes in—tongue, fingers, fist, cock . . . dildo. Ah, remember that time Scotty and I tied you down and used that big silicone number on you all night?”

 

Another startled gasp, then a soft moan. A gentle kiss was placed on Garrus’s ring finger, which meant that Scotty was about to start using his fingers to open Shep up further.

 

“Well,” Garrus went on apologetically. “We don’t have the _Leviathan_ here with us, now, but I’m sure that if Scott and I run outta steam, we can find . . . _something_ in here that’s thick and hard. Something we can lube up and use to stretch that needy ass of yours. Isn’t that right, Scotty?”

 

The intern pressed a kiss to Shep’s right cheek, not far from Garrus’s fingers, as Shep continued to try and gasp out their names. “You’re the Boss, Garrus. And I think Shep’ll take _whatever_ we decide to give him, so long as we _make him_ take it.”

 

“Mm . . . our Shep _is_ fond of foreign objects, Scotty. . . .”

 

“The foreigner, the better,” Scott agreed cheerfully, then Shep shuddered, cried out, and his head fell forward onto Garrus’s shoulder as he continued to moan weakly. He wasn’t even thrusting against Garrus’s leg, anymore. This was, actually, a _very good_ sign. Shep liked having his cock stimulated, of course, but even more than that, he _loved_ being stretched, fucked, and taken over . . . got off on being conquered and made to _need_ his own loss of control. And Garrus, aside from occasional, restrained thrusts against Shep’s abs, merely held his lover up and together, even as said lover was taken slowly apart.

 

Scott, of course, was a consummate professional, as ever, at teasing and taking and torturing. At death by a thousand cuts. He was an old-hand at stretching himself enough to take Shep’s dick and Garrus’s—sequentially and concurrently—with minimal lube and prep. But when it came to stretching _Shep_ , Scott tended to take his time and make it sweet. Savor the rare trust Shep was extending him, and do the job thoroughly and _right_. So, Garrus stole kiss after kiss from Shep’s trembling, uncoordinated mouth while Scott prepared him with murmured praise and quiet squelching sounds (the kid was never without lube. _Never_ ).

 

“Yeah, you’re ready, Shep,” Scott murmured at last, kissing Shep’s right cheek again, even as he signaled Garrus by squeezing his left wrist, before standing and pressing his body against Shep’s back. He kissed Shep’s shoulder and nape tenderly, his hands settling on Shep’s waist while Garrus continued to hold their lover open. “ _So_ ready for me.”

 

Shep made a strangled noise of agreement and impatience, as Scott chuckled and got into position. Of the three of them, at a modest five-ten, Scott was the shortest. He was sturdily built—not as buff as Shep, but not as lanky-lean as Garrus—and in good shape. Like Shep, his cock tended more toward girth than length . . . something that Shep had _definitely_ come to enjoy, as was evidenced by the desperate, greedy noises that emerged from Shep’s taut, tense throat when Scott began the steady, careful push in.

 

“Fuck-yes- _fuck_!” Shep shouted, burying his face in Garrus’s neck to muffle his cry. Garrus kissed Shep’s grown-out crewcut and temple comfortingly and Scott mumbled swears and praise, from _bitch_ to _baby_ , as he pressed his face to Shep’s broad shoulder.

 

When Scott was in deep and unable to go any further, his left hand shifted to Garrus’s waist, partly as leverage and partly in affection, and he breathed in Shep’s ear: “You’re so fucking _perfect_ , Shep. Hear that? _Perfect_. And you’re _ours_.”

 

Shep shuddered and stammered out something that was too garbled to make out, his face hot and wet on Garrus’s throat.

 

“We love you,” Garrus reminded their overwrought lover as Scott pulled out, then drove his cock into Shep again, slow and steady. Shep whimpered and rocked into Garrus’s slim, but sturdy body, holding on as Scott set up a pace that was powerful, but with long, lingering strokes.

 

And for a sweet eternity, the universe was just the three of them, taking each other apart in vastly different ways, and holding each other up and together, simultaneously. Scott worked and swore and strove for Shep’s core, his big, pretty eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. Shep, meanwhile, let himself be gripped and shifted, reamed and taken, as he gasped and grunted and maybe sobbed a bit into Garrus’s chest. His arms around Garrus’s neck were panic-tight, panic-strong, but shaking, like the man, himself.

 

Garrus registered his own growing need for stimulation and friction—his need for at least _one_ of the two places he considered _home_ —and beyond controlling his enthusiasm for taking the two bodies he loved most, he otherwise ignored it. He held Shep open and let Scott fuck their lover . . . let him drive Shep’s rigid, fever-hot, precome-damp cock against his thigh until, with another shout that wavered and almost squeaked, Shep shot all over Garrus’s upper thigh and shirt.

 

“Ah, Shep, ah, _fuck_ ,” Scott hitched, slamming into Shep several times, quick and hard, before stilling and coming with a softly hissed, “ _shiiiiiiit_.”

 

Shep finally moaned and shuddered, then sagged against Garrus, limp as a dishrag, but for his still half-hard cock. Garrus smiled. He loved it when everything went according to plan.

 

He rocked Shep in his arms, murmuring comforting nonsense to the other man as Scott came down from his release, blinking big, dazed eyes at Garrus over Shep’s shoulder. Garrus winked, and Scott grinned back, doofy and adorable . . . but hungry, too.

 

Their boy was _always_ hungry.

 

With a final squeeze of Garrus’s and Shep’s waists, Scott let go of them and backed up until he hit the tall stack of feeder paper boxes, then dropped gracefully to his knees. His come-tacky dick was only slightly hard, but then, what Scott lacked in endurance, he more than made up for in brief refractory time and insatiability. Garrus and Shep had often spent long nights getting Scott hard, getting him off, then doing it over and over again, until the kid finally came dry and passed out for the next eight hours.

 

Good times. . . .

 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Garrus murmured gently, urging Shep to stand up on his own just enough to turn and face a patiently waiting Scott.

 

“Where we goin’?” Shep burbled and sniffled, still dazed and more than a little wrecked, but utterly compliant, letting Garrus kiss his forehead and shuffle him around and toward Scott.

 

“Just over here. To Scotty,” Garrus reassured his briefly broken-open boyfriend. When they were close enough that Scott could lean in and begin one of his favorite activities—licking Shep clean—Shep shuddered again and moaned, soft and pained. Scott chuckled, his hands settling on Shep’s hips, before travelling around to his ass and gripping. Then spreading and holding it open.

 

Garrus, just behind Shep, took a step back to get a look at his lover’s stretched and prepared, well-used and dripping hole. His breath caught at the swollen, pink, abused pucker, and Scott’s come running out of it. For almost a minute, all he could do was stare at this affecting sight, and metabolize the realization that it was all for him.

 

In that moment, the only thing he wanted nearly as much as the perfect, devastating slide right into Shep’s body, aided by Scott’s come, was to do some cleaning of his own. Most guys didn’t care for so-called sloppy seconds, but Garrus— _and_ Shep and Scott—were rather different than most guys.

 

But, for the moment, Garrus restrained himself. There’d be time to taste and explore, later, after he’d added his own flavor to the mix.

 

“You’re my one true thing. You _both_ are. I’m lucky to have you,” Garrus whispered as he moved close to Shep again, his body flush against Shep’s back, his dick pressed between held-open cheeks. He slid around a bit in the lube and Scott’s come, and Shep moaned. Shortly thereafter, so did Scott. Shep probably had a death-grip in those dreads, again. Not to control Scott, but to control _himself_.

 

“Fuck, _Garrus_ . . . _Scott_. . . .” Shep wheezed out, shuffling his legs wider apart, and Garrus chuckled, breathless and heading toward mindless, too.

 

“Get him to the edge as fast as you can, Scotty. Use your teeth if you have to. Dunno how much longer I’m gonna last,” Garrus said apologetically, kissing Shep’s temple once more. Scott hummed in acknowledgement, from closer to Shep’s perineum than his dick, which meant he was probably mouthing Shep’s balls. Well, _nipping_ them, now, because Garrus liked teeth just fine, but Shep? Went _insane_ over them.

 

And Scott could work Shep over _thoroughly_ , with bites of varying intensities like a fucking surgeon.

 

Garrus wrapped his right arm around Shep’s waist, not even caring that he got come all over his sleeve, and shoved his left hand between their bodies, fingering Shep teasingly, then more firmly, then _rough_ , just because he liked the feel and the sound of Shep’s loosened, acquiescent body around him, and accepting him so greedily. And he _really_ liked the high-pitched gasps the other man made as he tried to beg for something bigger, harder, hotter, and infinitely more invasive than fingers.

 

“P-please, baby, _now_. . . .” Shep finally managed, and Garrus swore, then withdrew his fingers less than carefully, quickly replacing them with his cock. He drove into Shep’s receptive, but surprised body without preamble or warning, his hands clamping down on Shep’s waist in silent command to _hold still and take it_.

 

Shep, ever the good soldier, moaned, but did just that, shaking and quaking all over.

 

When Garrus was in as deep as he could get, holding Shep to him close and tight, panting on his cheek, he paused to let Shep’s clenching-convulsing muscles accommodate. A glance down Shep’s body showed Scott nuzzling Shep’s once-more fully erect cock, alternately nipping along the length of it with loving teases and tonguing the slit with worshipful dedication. His eyes, however, were wide and awed on Garrus’s face.

 

 _Always_ hungry.

 

Garrus winked again, which earned him Scott’s most winsome smile, stretched though it was around Shep’s dick.

 

“Do you have any idea how good being in you _feels_ , James?” Garrus whispered against his lover’s flushed, damp cheek. Shep huffed out a moan or maybe a laugh. “Do you have any idea how amazingly well you take a pounding? Like, you’re a _prodigy_ at it. Your ass was made to be fucked and absolutely _wrecked_ by our cocks and whatever else we can find to satisfy this need of yours to be taken and owned. If such a state of satisfaction is even achievable by the efforts of mere mortals.”

 

Shep made a sound that was more wibble than anything, his body clenching around and clamping down reflexively as Garrus slowly pulled out. Garrus smirked at Scott once more, and the intern waggled his thick, messy, fawn-colored brows endearingly. Stifling a chuckle, Garrus thrust into Shep at that just-right-angle that made Shep _wail_ . . . weak, but long and _so_ sweet to Garrus’s ears.

 

Garrus’s next thrust had the added benefit of driving Shep’s cock down Scott’s throat hard enough that their boy did gag and hitch a bit. And, clearly, he loved every moment of it.

 

Moaning happily, his eyelids fluttering shut in bliss, Scott began working his own prick slow and tight, with his right hand. With his left, he reached behind him and fingered himself hard enough to make him grunt around Shep’s dick. Garrus could hear the squelches as Scott fucked himself with as much power as he could muster at that awkward angle, but not a whole hell of a lot of rhythm or finesse . . . not that Scott ever needed much of either to get himself off.

 

Feeling inordinately blessed, Garrus sighed, dropping a tender kiss on Shep’s jaw, then set up his own piston-like rhythm of thrusts and withdrawals that gave no quarter and no relief. If Scott excelled at gentle, then escalatingly intense fucking, Garrus was as methodical and relentless as a machine. He started hard, _stayed_ hard, and eventually went _harder_ , still. And he _never_ stopped or eased up until he was too done for anything else _but_ coming and collapsing.

 

According to Shep, Garrus—or Garrus _and_ Scott, sequentially or concurrently—were the only ones who’d _ever_ made Shep walk funny for the better part of a day. _That_ admission had made Garrus grin for the better part of a _week_ , and Scott could _still_ be caught, occasionally giving Shep moony, calf-eyed, but wolfish looks at random moments.

 

Now, however, Garrus was lost to his own need—complimentary to Shep’s—to do the taking, the conquering, the invading. The possessing. He was fucking his ownership into Shep’s body, and through Shep, into Scott’s. He was expressing his love in the way it was most easily accepted—though _not_ the only way he knew to show it—and pledging himself to them both for as long as they chose to keep him as their mate.

 

 _Mine_ , he knew, better than he knew anything, including himself. _And theirs_.

 

He finally opened his bleary, throbbing eyes as Shep’s body locked down on him, fluttering and convulsing and clinging. His vision cleared just in time to see Scott happily, with mouth open and eyes closed, take a monster of a facial.

 

“Oh, fuck . . . oh, _fuck_ ,” Shep babbled and groaned, clutching with one weak hand at his spurting dick and aiming for Scott’s expectant expression. The younger man bit his lower lip, then licked it, as come ran down his cheeks, chin, and neck, and spatters landed on his chest and even his dick.

 

Then, just as Shep finally finished, panting and wincing as he eased the last drops of his release out of his spent cock, Scott groaned, low and long, and came, too. The hand on his cock was punishingly tight, but still, and the hand behind him and the fingers opening him, were working faster and harder than ever. Each thrust—Garrus was pretty sure that Scott was using all four fingers, because Shep wasn’t the only one who liked being stretched to the point of pain . . . maybe even _beyond_ —forcing short, but violent spurts from his pretty, flushed cock.

 

“Holy _Jesus_ ,” Shep breathed, laughing a little and grabbing his dick again when Scott eventually sagged, head hanging, shoulders slumped, dick mostly flaccid, and fingers slipping out of his relaxed body with a last squelch. He sat on his heels, shaking and gasping for breath, and Shep shivered and grunted, probably from over-sensitivity. “ _Fuuuuuck_ , Garrus, but our boy dirties up so _pretty_!”

 

“That, he does,” Garrus bit out as his rhythm and steadiness went the way of the honest politician, and he was reduced to grunting and growling as he repeatedly shoved his dick in Shep’s pliant, hot body, fighting for every millimeter deeper he could get. He knew he was leaving bruises on Shep’s hips—wouldn’t be the first time—from grasping too tight, and on his neck from biting kisses were more about marking territory than muffling his own shouts. Discretion had long-since gone out the window, but Garrus didn’t care, at the moment. And Shep and Scott didn’t _want_ him to.

 

“Show-off,” Shep sighed, wrapping his free hand back around Garrus’s neck and turning his face toward Garrus’s for a nuzzling sort of kiss. One that Garrus was too discombobulated to return beyond breathing heavily into it. Shep chuckled and scritched his fingers affectionately through the hair at Garrus’s nape. “Always gotta be the fuckin’ marathon-man, huh?”

 

Garrus grunted. “’S that a complaint?”

 

“Fuck, _no_ ,” Shep gasped out, as Garrus hit his spot extra hard and kept doing so, until Shep was once more beyond snark. But not beyond whimpering and shuddering. “ _Oh, fuuuuuuck_. . . .”

 

“You know Shep,” Scott added serenely, as he levered himself up to his feet shakily, still covered in come—though he’d wiped his eyes clear, at least—and looking utterly content as he approached his lovers and wrapped his arms around them. Moved with them, as their bodies fit together and relied on each other. “He _never_ complains.”

 

“F-fuckin-A!” Shep agreed on a weak exhale just before Scott claimed his mouth with bruising-hard intent and singular focus. With a surprised and slightly bemused huff, Shep let himself be kissed—let Scott fuck his mouth with that talented, naughty tongue as _Garrus_ fucked his relaxed, but probably sore ass—and bore down on Garrus’s dick like he was trying to pulverize it.

 

And that was pretty much all she wrote. Garrus lost it after another three and a half thrusts, coming in the middle of the fourth with a growl and grunt. Then he shoved himself the rest of the way into Shep’s body, forcing a nasally little gasp from his lover that didn’t disrupt his make-out session with Scott.

 

It felt to Garrus as if he came _forever_. And even after he was down to the occasional dribble and intense aftershock, he continued to push his two-thirds hard, then half-hard, then _one-quarter_ hard dick into Shep’s body, because . . . _of course_ , he did. It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked either of his boys even after going empty. And it wouldn’t be the last.

 

But, at this particular moment, he was mostly stoppering his come and what was left of Scott’s in Shep’s body for as long as possible—he really _liked_ the idea . . . it sent his brain to a caveman sort of place it rarely went to—and partly, well, he just loved having his dick in Shep’s ass more than anything.

 

Finally, however, Shep broke his and Scott’s kiss to rumble. “Alright, already, marathon-man . . . at this point, you’re shovin' a handkerchief into a punch-bowl.”

 

Snorting, Garrus laughed, leaning his head against Shep’s and not opening his eyes. When Scott kissed him, tasting like Shep’s come and bubblegum, Garrus returned it, took it over briefly, and Scott yielded beautifully and joyously, as ever.

 

“Love you. Both of you,” Garrus finally whispered, when the kiss ended with several small busses from Scott’s plush lips.

 

“Ditto,” Scott hummed, dreamy and sated.

 

“Eh. You’ll do, I suppose,” Shep decided gruffly. Garrus’s lids fluttered open and he met Scott’s big, pretty gaze. They both rolled their eyes and Scott chuckled.

 

“He’s so romantical, isn’t he?” Garrus smiled, crooked and wry.

 

“ _Mmhmm_.” Scott bit his lip again, then grinned slyly. “Oooh! Guess what time it is, Boss!”

 

“I’m sure I couldn’t _begin_ to guess,” Garrus lied innocently, his hands clenching on Shep’s hips in a way that probably gave the game away. “You’ll just have to tell me.”

 

Scott waggled those fawn-colored brows almost subtly. For _Scott_ , anyway.

 

“Time for _you_ to get on your knees and clean up the mess we made,” he said in a low, rasping burr, his eyes flickering and flashing almost like Shep’s. And damned if Garrus didn’t _respond_ to it, his spent dick tingling and twitching against Shep’s ass.

 

Hungry, _and_ a _fast_ learner.

 

Smirking, Garrus bowed his head with marginal obedience, but no subservience. “Yes, _sir_ ,” he rumbled with more threat and promise, than deference.

 

Garrus still had a ways to go when it came to his own submissive side. Even just _finding_ it was proving to be a job of work. But a pleasant one.

 

And, anyway, Shep and Scott were patient with him. They _loved_ him, Dominance-games, Alpha-instincts, and all.

 

It was because he loved them _back_ —and because he genuinely enjoyed _this_ particular act—that he gave up on trying to shove his mostly flaccid dick into Shep’s very loosened asshole, and dropped to his knees with a soft grunt. His hands landed on Shep’s ass again and, after a few moments taken to kiss every bit of that glorious real-estate he could reach and up to the small of his back, Garrus spread Shep open.

 

Above him, Shep’s moans and whimpers as Garrus teased, tasted, and tortured him, were muffled by another of Scott’s hungry, hard kisses. _His_ hands covered Garrus’s where they held Shep open, and Garrus had no doubt that Scott was already starting to get hard again. Because . . . _of course_ , he was.

 

 _I guess it’s my turn, next. Kid’s like the Energizer Bunny,_ he thought with a rush of anticipation and a brief, bright edge of fear. Until recently, he’d never been topped in his life. And since, certainly _not_ by anyone who wasn’t Shep or Scott.

 

This was something, like his nascent submissive side, of which he was still discovering the pleasures and advantages. And, as with that, Shep and Scott were infinitely patient and loving. Tender and eager.

 

In the meantime, Shep was making the kinds of sounds he’d never admit to _even_ when black-out drunk: kitten-helpless, sweetly-yearning, and adorably _urgent_. Garrus pressed his face tighter to Shep and pushed his tongue in deeper, chasing bitter-salt-musk—chasing _Shep and Scott and himself_ —that were so intertwined, there was no separating them and no picking a favorite. Their combined scents and tastes were dizzying, intoxicating, and . . . really, _everything_. It meant familiarity and safety, love and home.

 

It meant Garrus’s perfect place in this world. In this _universe_.

 

Scott gave one of his happy hums, already clamping down on Garrus’s hands and Shep’s hips, and rocking his body against Shep’s with serious intent. Whatever happened next, it was sure to be a hell of a ride, indeed.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ , I _love_ you assholes!” Shep blurted— _complained_ —breathlessly, dismayed and turned-on in equal measures. Then he swore some more as Garrus’s laugh vibrated on and in him, and Scott recaptured his mouth with determined gusto.

 

And so, the rest of their morning—and the first forty-six minutes of lunch—went.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Stitch’s Prompt: _This prompt is specifically meant for a triad (since I apparently love doing that to you)._
> 
>  _Person A (upon coming on person B and C in a closet/whatever): "Isn't that an HR violation?"_  
>  Person B (with a shit-eating grin): "Not if you join us." 
> 
> (If anyone wants this to be a series of porny one-shots, or maybe even an expanded universe with more pairings, HMU in comments with promptage, yo! Or on [The Tumbles](http://beetle-ships-it-all.tumblr.com)!)


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